Nature Boy
by Leper Gnome
Summary: Leper remembers the last time something like this happened to him.  He remembers like it was yesterday. Lepellier family centric


**Nature Boy**

Eleanor Lepellier scrubbed a washcloth over the kitchen counter, glancing out the window to see her husband, Richard, pointing up at the top of a tall pine tree, their little son, Elwin, following his finger. Their backs were to her. She smiled at her two favorite men in the world, loving that although they couldn't bond like this much of the time, they were making the most of her husband's day off from work, as they always did.

It was an early morning in April, quite chilly but still lovely. The sky was overcast, so the dew on the grass didn't sparkle in the way she liked, but it was a bright sort of cloudy that framed the old trees nicely as they towered over their humble home. Eleanor had seen this sight every day of her life, having grown up in Vermont, but she always wondered how her husband, a former city boy, had taken to it like he had. She paused in her cleaning of the counter, watching fondly as Richard hoisted their son up on his hip, probably telling him about how the squirrels and blue birds would soon start coming out from their long, long sleep. Elwin listened quite intently; it was obvious that his parents' love of nature had been passed on to him.

Eleanor left the window and moved on to the dishes. Some time later, she heard the front door open and her husband's voice rang throughout the house, "Honey?"

"In the kitchen, Richard," she called back.

"I tell you, carting that boy around takes more energy than an entire work week," he commented as he stepped into the kitchen, smiling as he kissed Eleanor on the forehead.

She grinned up at him. "I'm sure it's worth it." As she leaned over to look behind Richard, though, her smile changed to a frown of puzzlement. "Where is he?"

"He'll be in in a minute," he replied, nodding toward the small window. "He became fascinated with a bit of brush and wanted to stay out longer. Look, see? You can see him right there, out the window."

Eleanor looked and saw that he was right; Elwin was perfectly visible from the kitchen, poking around in a bit of shrubbery. She was still concerned, though. "Are you sure he should be digging around in the bushes?"

"Oh, he'll be fine." He leaned in conspiratorially. "I'd planned on having him putter around over there earlier this morning. I checked and made sure there wasn't anything harmful he could get his hands on," he said in hushed tones, grinning.

Eleanor giggled, shaking her head. "God forbid our Elwin ever moves into a city. He only knows how to survive with trees and dirt everywhere he looks, what with how we're bringing him up."

"And I wouldn't have it any other way," Richard answered, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "Unless _he_ would, of course. You know I'm only doing this because I think it's the best choice for him, not because it's the only choice I'll ever give him," he amended.

"I know," Eleanor replied absently as she watched their son.

After a few minutes, Richard went back out to go to town and get the newspaper. Eleanor was finishing up her grooming of the kitchen and getting set to prepare Elwin's midmorning snack when she heard a door creak open and a small voice call down the hall, "Mama?"

"Yes, Elwin?" She poked her head out of the kitchen to smile at her darling little son, standing in the partially open front doorway. He was the spitting image of his father: fair headed, with light blue eyes and a smattering of freckles on his face that had long since faded from his father's visage. He didn't say anything, only continued to look at her. She knew he was at the level he should be with his words, but he just didn't use them that often. So she left the kitchen and walked toward him, and as she came closer she saw he had something cupped in his hands.

"What do you have there, Elwin?... _Oh my God!_" she shrieked, seeing that in his hands was a little blue bird, and it was quite dead. "Elwin, honey, put that down! It's dead!"

Elwin paused, then did as his mother asked, stepping back outside and setting the bird on the ground. He straightened up and looked at his mother curiously. "What's that mean?"

"What?... Oh." She calmed down a bit now that the dead creature was no longer touching her son, but she still bit her lip. She hadn't wanted to tell Elwin about this part of life just yet, but now that she had said the word, the endlessly curious boy would not rest until she told him what it meant. "Well, honey… That little bird died, which means it's… it's not alive anymore." She kneeled down and put her arms around the still boy's shoulders. "It's not alive like us. That happens to all animals, Elwin, when they get old and they're… too tired to go on anymore. They go to heaven." She put it as nicely as she could, watching his face for any kind of reaction.

Elwin looked at her blankly, then turned to look at the blue bird on the ground. After a moment where Eleanor feared that he hadn't comprehended the meaning of what she had said, his eyes widened at the bird, and then his face crumpled and he began to cry.

She had anticipated this much; the little baby tears as he clung to her and sobbed softly. But as he continued staring at the dead bird, he fisted her shirt much more tightly and started _wailing_. She looked at him, startled, and tried to bring him in closer to her as she stroked his head. "Shh, Elwin, it's okay, it's okay," she murmured.

"_No_!" Elwin shrieked, then continued to scream, tears still coming down his face. He was shaking now.

She quickly scooped him up in her arms and carried him into the living room, sitting down on the sofa with him on her lap. It didn't matter that she told him that the bird was with God now, or that it was happy with the other birds in heaven, or that it could never get hurt again. He was inconsolable. He continued to let out great, shrieking sobs, gasping for breath in between. His eyes were shut tight and tears still fell. She was starting to worry that he would faint or have a heart attack or _something_ if this went on much longer. She felt tears prickling at her own eyes, wishing more than anything that Elwin's father was here. "Oh, Elwin," she pleaded, tightening her arms around him. "Please, stop crying! Please!"

This was almost foreign to her, for Elwin hadn't cried since he was a baby. They had gone nearly four years without seeing a single tear from their son. She remembered the first time he had fallen and skinned his knee while outside; he had been more interested in what that red stuff was that was coming out of him and why it was there, and he hadn't once complained that it hurt. When she had to explain the meaning of death to him, she had been expecting the possibility of some tears, but only that. She never would have dreamed to see him as upset as he was now; not as a child, not ever.

After a few more horrible minutes, Elwin's crying began to rapidly subside. Eleanor ducked her head down to look at his face. His entire face was red, and his lower lip was quivering. He was no longer sobbing so hysterically though, and the tears seemed to have stopped. He looked exhausted. She gently gathered him up in her arms and carried him upstairs to his bedroom. Removing his shoes and coat and tucking him into his bed, she sat on the edge and looked at him. He looked back, completely calm now but making no move to dry his face. She did for him, taking his face in her hands and wiping the tears away with her thumbs.

"I'm sorry, Mama," he murmured hoarsely.

"Oh, honey," she sighed. "Don't be. Go to sleep now, okay?"

"Yes, Mama."

"I love you."

He was already asleep.

She kissed him on the forehead and went downstairs.

A short time after that, during which she alternated wringing her hands and biting her nails while pacing the living room, Richard returned with the paper. Usually he filled her in on the town gossip, which typically ended up being more informative than the newspaper itself, but Eleanor had no time for that. She immediately told her husband of what had happened to Elwin, and she had never been so scared in her life, and is the bird still there on the ground?

"I don't know, I… I didn't see," he replied softly, looking toward the stairs.

"I know you want to check on him," she said, touching his arm. "You go ahead, I'll see if I can't plan a nice burial for that little bird… for Elwin's sake." And with that, they parted ways, one headed toward the stairs, the other toward the front door.

It was two or three hours before Eleanor nudged Elwin's door open, a platter with a ham sandwich and a glass of milk in her hands. She had meant to wake Elwin up so he could eat, and so they could see how he was doing, but she was rather shocked to see him standing up on his bed, taping a piece of paper with a drawing up on the wall. "Elwin? Honey, how are you doing?"

He turned toward her after a moment, and by looking at his face, it was almost as if he hadn't been crying at all. "I'm okay."

Eleanor looked at his bedside table. A drawer was open, the drawer where he kept some paper, crayons, and tape for when he wanted to draw something and stick it on the wall. It was his father's idea. She set the tray of food down and motioned to Richard, who was waiting in the hall, to come in. "What did you draw?" she asked, moving closer to Elwin.

Elwin didn't answer. He didn't have to. As they moved closer, his parents could see that he had made a crude drawing of a blue bird. It was standing on a tree branch, and it beak was open with little musical notes coming out. But what stood out most was that, besides the regular bird wings, there were white angel wings on its back, and a yellow halo over its head.

Eleanor was speechless. Richard stepped forward and gently clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Now, that's a work of art, if I've ever seen one. A masterpiece."

Elwin nodded.

Eleanor sighed. "Elwin, dear," she said softly, taking his hand. "Do you know what a funeral is?"

He looked at her interestedly, shaking his head.

"Well, it's kind of like having a mass, but it's specially done for someone who died."

His eyes were bright and wide as he looked back at the drawing.

"We're going to have a funeral for your little bird. It'll be just us. Would you like to come with us?"

He nodded immediately, turning to his parents again. They smiled at him and led him out of the room, closing the door behind them.


End file.
